


The reason behind

by Sam_Jewelfish



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Gen, Suicide, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-27
Updated: 2018-09-27
Packaged: 2019-07-18 09:23:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16115516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sam_Jewelfish/pseuds/Sam_Jewelfish
Summary: What is known about Shinigamis is that they committed suicide. They became Death Reapers following it, having to face death their entire life until pardon is granted.So what is the reason behind the suicide of Grell Sutcliff?





	The reason behind

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone,
> 
> This story is very important to me. Grell is a transgender character I wanted to write on. If you are triggered by suicide and transgender, please do not read the following writing.  
> If not, enjoy!

"Get out of my way, you weird!"  
He rushed to the door, slamming it with all his might. The poor girl stayed behind, half-covered by the sheets of the bed she was sitting on. Only her bare chest was visible. And this was exactly why the man fleed.  
No breast was visible. Only a plain and, flat chest.

A man's one.

Grell had always suffered from this internal dispute. He had the body of a young man, quite a well-built one. But deep inside his heart, he was not a man.  
He had always felt like he was in the wrong body. It was the only explanation he could find. He was feeling like a woman. He had the same types of interests, the same types of desires, the same way of behaving. Never did he think like a man. Sports, beer, strength games or women... Brr. He was not the least fond of that.  
But clothes, shopping, make-up, jewels, children, cooking, dancing and, men... Grell was completely excited just by thinking of these.  
How badly he wanted to be a "She". To have that body he had always dreamt of: large breast men would be gawning about, hips so well-shaped even women would desire and, maybe the most important, a cute tummy due to some life growing inside of her...  
He wanted to be a mother. To be a wife. To marry and have children the way other women did. And though he looked so much like a woman with these long dresses full of laces, this long ginger hair floating in the wind, thrse high heels to attract gazes on his well-shaped legs... Men would always find out she was a "He". They would flee, insult her, tell her to go die... And she would always end up alone in her bedroom, sheets all over her body, crying her soul out because she was different.  
Rejected.

In the wrong body.

Grell had always liked the red colour. It was bright, powerful. It was the coulour of passion. Passion. The feeling she was the most fond of. She had always been pasisonate about everything. Passionate about romance. Passionate about tragedy books. Passionate about fancy dresses and make-up. Passionate about severe and strict men.

Right now she was passionate.

Passionate about the marks she engraved on her wrists.  
Passionate about the blood leaving her body.  
Passionate about how beautiful it was to see her arms slowly colouring into red.  
Passionate about the bath water becoming blurry and reflecting a soft shade of red.  
Passionate about how she felt dizzy, like she would sleep forever.  
Passionate about the cold taking over her body, freezing her to death.  
Passionate about how her life was ending.  
Because she was sure she would be happy being dead.  
She would live a different life. Not afraid of being different. Accepting herself. Not judged by anyone.

She would be happy.

And here she was, running to catch up a demon. Collecting dead souls and watching their memories. Collaborating with an austere colleague of her, sexy as hell.  
Sure. She still was not a woman.  
Sure. She would have to face death every single day until pardon is granted for her suicide.  
Sure. She was busy everyday and had to complain to orders and rules.  
But she was a lot happier than before. She was not judged, simply teased a little bit. Her colleague was cold, but she knew she was important to him, she was more than a simple colleague, she was a friend, even more than that.  
Everything was good.

She was good.


End file.
